Batman : Murderer?
by robster72
Summary: Complete. Someone is killing people dressed as the Batman. However Bruce has other problems. Aunt Celia is in town and won't leave until he is married off... Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my story.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin or Killer Croc. DC does**

**Batman – Murderer?**

Nothing was broken. Batman knew that instinctively. He had never been hit that hard before, not even by Bane. He opened his eyes. Gravel. Gravel tinged with red. His blood. He was getting double vision. His lens was falling out of his mask. He ripped the lens out of his mask and rolled to his feet. Killer Croc, a seven-foot tall gangster with green scaly skin and sharp teeth was leering at him.

"What is wrong with you Bats?" Said Killer Croc. "You falling asleep on me already?"

Batman tried to talk but his mouth was full of blood. He spat on the roof of the building they were fighting on and spoke again. "Your going back to Blackgate for the murder of those security men."

"There ain't no man can take me down now boy," said Croc. "You recognise this stuff?"

Killer Croc pointed to a small green capsule that was tied to his arm. Tubes were leading into his arm. "I got this from a guy called Bird in Blackgate. The same stuff that Bane used to break you. This is a new product line though,it's notaddictive and twice as strong."

"I know what Venom is and what it can do."

Killer Croc lunged at Batman. He took a step back and kicked out at Croc's arm with a Ju Jitsu kick. Croc lunged at Batman's foot and grabbed it and held Batman upside down with one arm.

"Bane was a wimp. He didn't you hit hard enough." Killer Croc threw Batman off the roof.

Batman relaxed his body and waited for the impact. Aaah! He landed awkwardly on a fire escape the side of the building. Damn. That felt like a rib going. He got to his feet. The fire escape was shaking? Why was that? He looked up to see Killer Croc pushing the fire escape out of its moorings.

"Hey bats," said Killer Croc holding up Batman's utility belt. "This belong to you?" He threw it down into the streets below. With a screeching sound the fire escape left the wall and started falling down towards the streets below. Batman leapt from the falling fire escape onto the wall. There was nothing to grab hold of! He fell from the wall and with one hand grabbed hold of a passing window ledge. His shoulder screamed out in pain, but better that than landing on the sidewalk hundreds of feet below. With a horrendous clattering sound the fire escape landed on the sidewalk below. He clambered onto a window ledge and threw himself onto a drainpipe and quickly climbed up to the roof. Killer Croc aimed a kick at his head but Batman was waiting for it and pushed back on his foot making Croc fall over.

"You'll pay for that short stuff," said Croc and clambered to his feet. He ripped an air conditioning unit from the roof and threw it at Batman. Batman threw himself to the floor and the unit flew harmlessly overhead.

"Hey green boy," Robin landed on the roof next to Batman. "You trying out a new aftershave? Let me guess essence of sewer?"

"After I kill Batman, I will rip you apart."

"I bet you tell all the heroes that."

"Stay out of his way Robin," said Batman. He didn't need Robin getting in his way. This creep was dangerous. Robin threw a grappling hook at Killer Croc that wrapped him in high tensile steel wire. Croc grabbed hold of the wire and yanked it pulling Robin off his feet. "I said to stay out of his way. I can take him." He picked Robin up from the ground.

"Yeah right you can take him. Have you seen a mirror recently? You look like the centre fold for Boxers Most Beaten."

"Your getting old Batman," hissed Killer Croc. "Maybe you should think about retiring?"

Killer Croc ran at Batman. Batman span around letting him pass him and then aimed his best Atemi-Waza striking technique on Killer Croc's knee.

"Aaaah!" Killer Croc fell to the floor and tried to get up but his leg wouldn't support his weight. "You'll pay for that!" His clawed hand tried to grab Batman but just scratched at thin air. Batman aimed another kick at Killer Croc's chin this time throwing Croc to the ground.

Batman was shaking with tiredness and pain. He sat down on the side of the building. "Put the cuffs on him Robin and let Gordon know where he is."

"No problem Batman. Jeez I hate to tell you what you look like but you could get a part in Cinderella as an ugly sister." Batman glared at Robin. "Hey don't kill the messenger. I'm just saying you should get Alfred to check you out."

"I'm fine," he hissed at Robin. He stalked off to the edge of the building.

"Batman... Bruce, you need to get checked out," said Robin, starting to look worried.

Batman whirled around, flecks of blood span from his mouth. "I've got to fetch my utility belt and I need to do some thinking, I'll see you back at the cave." Batman grabbed hold of the drain pipe and lowered himself down to street level.

* * *

The street was quiet save for a coke can that was rattling as it rolled down the gutter. The darkness was broken only by a streetlight flickering. The bulb was nearly at the end of its life and it was not the only thing. A girl was running down the street. She was whimpering with fear. They were getting closer! Why did she walk down this street? She should have waited for a taxi, but no she thought she would walk to another taxi rank. She looked over her shoulder. They were getting closer! Maybe they just wanted money? No. The way they had looked at her as she walked past. They wanted more than money. 

"Oh no!" She whimpered. A dark shape left the doorway in front of her. She was trapped. She turned to face her two pursuers.

"Give us your bag," said one of them.

She threw it at them.

"Ooh temper, temper," said the one with a baseball cap. He leant down to pick it up when a batarang impaled his hand. "Aaaah! It's Batman!" He pulled out a gun from his pocket and started shooting at the dark shape that had left the doorway. Another batarang took him in the neck and he fell to the ground choking on his blood.

The girl gasped in shock and the thugs companion turned to run but was cut down by a batarang that took him in the back. He fell to his knees blood pouring from his wound. "But Batman doesn't kill!" He gasped before falling to the ground.

The girl turned to face her rescuer. He was dressed in an ebony cloak that flared out into batwings. On his chest was a yellow embossed bat symbol. "Thanks but you didn't have to kill them."

"All who cross the path of the Bat will die," he said. He got a grappling gun from his utility belt and shot it at the nearest building. He swung away leaving her in the pool of light from the streetlight and the rapidly increasing pool of blood.

* * *

The car's headlights pierced the darkness. The lady in the car wound down the window to look at a road sign. Ah. Wayne Manor was this way. It had been a long time since she had last been here. Too long. The car pulled into the drive way and, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels, carried on the long drive to the house. What was it about the Wayne's and their desire for solitude? If this had been hers she would have sold the place and bought a penthouse suite in Gotham's theatre district. Still the house looked cheery enough from the drive. The lights illuminated a nicely kept, though sparse garden. She parked the car outside the house and pressed the button on the dashboard to open the boot. Hmmph. There was a time when she had a servant to do this for her. She opened the door of the Bentley and walked to the front door of the house. She pulled the bell rope. What was the name of the servant? Alfred? Adam? No Albert that was it. A slim man with a pencil thin moustache opened the door. 

"Aaah Albert, take my cases."

Alfred opened his mouth in astonishment. "Hello madam, we haven't had the pleasure of your company for some years."

"Stop dithering Albert and let me in. It is bitter out here."

"Certainly madam, where are your cases?"

She glowered at him. "In the car and I would like a cup of tea. Where are your manners? Where is that no good nephew of mine?"

"Master Bruce is taking tea in the study madam. I should warn you he hit his head on the…" Alfred looked thoughtful. "door madam."

"Go and tell him that his Great Aunt Celia is here man and are you just going to leave me standing in the door way?"

"Sorry madam, please follow me. I will fetch your cases shortly." Alfred was speaking a little louder than was strictly necessary. Alfred adopted a light tone. "How long will you be staying madam?"

"Don't be impertinent man. As long as is necessary." The class of servant was really appalling nowadays. He would be one of the first to go. Up ahead she saw Bruce Wayne and a boy leave the study. What had Bruce done to his face? He had a black eye and a swollen lip. Judging by the way he held himself he had hurt his side as well. She started smiling. "Bruce, wonderful to see you again. What have you done to your face."

Bruce looked to his left and said, "I fell down the stairs this morning, Aunt Celia."

"Fell down the stairs? Did you hit every one of them on the way down? Your servant Albert…"

"Alfred." Corrected Bruce.

"Said you hit a door?"

"I hit the door on the way down."

She walked up to him and started sniffing. "Have you been drinking?"

"Not yet," said Bruce trying to smile.

"You haven't introduced me to this boy?"

"Aunt Celia, this is Timothy Drake a neighbour and a friend of mine. Timothy this is Great Aunt Celia the sister of my Grandfather. She normally lives in England."

It's not surprising he was still single with a child as company. She hoped the relationship was purely professional. She didn't want a repeat of her sister's husband. They certainly didn't talk about him in polite society.

"Of course it is always wonderful to see you Aunt Celia, but may I ask what your visit is about?"

The rudeness of the young generation! Still he would have to find out soon. "The Wayne family will die out if you don't marry. I've come here to find you a wife."

* * *

Authors note - I hope it is not too heretical for Bruce Wayne to have a Great Aunt? I hope you enjoy the story. It is planned for about 5-6 chapters. All reviews welcome! 


	2. Chapter Two

I don't own any of these characters DC does. I hope everyone enjoys the story. All reviews or comments welcome I'm trying to improve my writing!

**Batman – Murderer? – Chapter Two**

Commissioner Gordon struck a match on the fire escape door and lit his cigarette. The cigarette end glowed in the darkness. He was on the top of Gotham Police building. He dreaded to think how many times he had done what he was about to do. He pressed a button and a light beamed upwards into the sky the bat symbol at its centre.

"What if he doesn't turn up commish?" Asked Burke. He was a big man who was busy getting bigger by eating a donut.

"Then at least we'll know won't we?" Said Gordon.

"He got careless with some of his toys," said Burke. "Big deal, no one is going to miss those two crum bums."

"I still don't think it was Batman who killed those two."

"Wake up and smell Gotham commish," said Burke. "The only reason he hasn't killed before is most of the people he beats senseless are too stupid to die."

"We've got no proof it was him. Anyone can put on a costume."

"How many other people are stupid enough to go out dressed like a flying mouse looking for a fight?" Said Burke, wiping crumbs from his chin onto his stained coat. "The broad he rescued was pretty insistent it was him."

At the edge of the building a man dressed in black with ears like devils horns appeared. A yellow bat symbol was emblazoned in the middle of his chest.

* * *

For once Bruce Wayne was at a loss for words. 

"Married?" He said. "You want me to get married? Well it is something I've been looking to plan out possibly for the future. Maybe even this year."

She was glaring at him. Not even the Joker had a stare as icy cold as Aunt Celia.

"You're not getting any younger," said Aunt Celia. "You can't always go around attacking bad guys with your friends." She pointed her stick at Tim, whose eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his head.

Bruce gulped. How much did she know? How did she know? Who else knew? "What do you mean attacking bad guys?" he said in a falsetto voice.

"These computer games of yours!" said Aunt Celia. "I know what you youngsters get up to, I've read the papers. We need to find you a women."

Bruce clung to a possible life raft. "Well there aren't any suitable women in Gotham, I mean I've dated a lot of them."

Aunt Celia poked him with her stick. "I read the society pages young man. How do you know they are not suitable, you only date them once and then you cast them off like an old sock? We are going out tonight to find you a nice young lady."

Bruce was shocked to see his one and only life raft sink in front of him. He had one chance and he took it before the he sank along with his raft. "Well this black eye of mine won't heal up straight away. It might take several months for me to look datable." He sighed and tried to look as if it wasn't for the wretched fates he would be out there tonight cutting a dash with the females of Gotham.

"Nonsense," said Aunt Celia looking up at him. She rummaged around in her bag. What was she getting? It was makeup!

Bruce realised that his life raft had not just sunk, but blown up, burnt, frozen and possibly eaten on the way down. His eyes wide with fear he looked across at Tim. Faithful Robin, he had saved him more times then he could remember. If anyone could save him it was he. Tim was trying to hold a serious expression whilst simultaneously trying not to laugh. He looked like he was chewing a pepper. Alfred! Trusty, dependable, devoted, staunch, loyal Alfred! He had been his constant companion for most of his life. He'd think of something to say!

"I think if you try a little mascara on the bruising round his eye and some rouge on the bruise to his chin it will hide the effects nicely," said Alfred.

* * *

Gordon threw down his cigarette and stubbed it out with his shoe. He coughed, a horrible racking cough. One day he would have to quit. He glowered across at the shadowy figure. 

"You mind telling me what happened to those two kids?"

Batman hissed. "What men?"

"Two perps end up dead with your boomerangs sticking out of them," Gordon turned to face him, he had a gun in his hand, "and if your Batman I'm Mickey Mouse."

Despite the shadows he could see "Batman" grin. "I'd love to kill a cute cartoon." His hands flickered and a silvery shape flew towards him. With a speed Gordon didn't know he had he threw himself to one side whilst simultaneously shooting at the shadowy figure. "Batman" threw himself off the building. Burke had got a shotgun and he was waving it where "Batman" had been. Gordon looked behind him at the fire exit door. A sharp silvery batarang was impaled in it. He touched the edge and it brought a speck of blood to his finger. Jeez, it was lethal.

"Looks like Bats has gone bats," grinned Burke.

"That was not Batman."

"Yeah I know, he was a regular blabbermouth compared with guano boy."

"Put out an all points," said Gordon. "I want that psycho arrested. Warn the boys he's handy with blades so gun him down if he so much as twitches."

"But what about the real Bats…"

"He'll have to take care of himself," he lit another cigarette, shielding the flame with his hand. He dragged the smoke into his lungs. God he loved this city sometimes! His wife was always talking about him getting a nice comfortable job in a little town but where else but Gotham could you gun down a mime and say you thought he was the Joker?

* * *

"Batman" was clinging to the side of the building. He looked down to the streets below. Several police cars sirens wailing were leaving below. The poor misguided fools. He got a grappling gun from his belt and aimed it at the nearest building. With a clanking sound it connected with a fire escape. Well here goes. Batman always made this seem so simple he thought. He leapt into the air and swung through the dark streets towards a police car. With a remarkable acrobatic skill he let go of the rope and landed on top of a police car. He grabbed hold of the sirens and leaned to the left just before some shots tore through the roof. He grabbed a fragmentation grenade from his belt and threw it in the window and then leapt onto the roof of a passing lorry. Behind him with a horrible wet sounding explosion the police car blew up. Damn the lorry roof was wet. He had trouble keeping his balance and crouched down to present less wind resistance. Good. If that won't get the police attention nothing will. 

He had wanted Gordon dead. Who would have thought that cancer-ridden old man could move so fast? He leapt into the air and grabbed a passing lamppost. Balancing carefully on the light he aimed his last grappling hook at the nearest building. He attached the rope to a small motor on his belt and was winched up to the top of the nearest building. How many dead was that? He wished he had looked in the car before he had escaped? Two. At least two. Possibly three? No he would call it two. He pulled down his sleeve and looked at his scarred arm. He pulled out a small knife from his belt and cut two fresh lines. He was shaking. He brought the knife to his mouth and tenderly licked it clean, still shaking in ecstasy.

* * *

Whilst applying makeup to a glowering Bruce Wayne who was muttering that Clark Kent never had to put up with this, Alfred whispered to Bruce. 

"Sorry about this Master Bruce," he glanced over his shoulder. That harridan was still looking at him. He whispered to him very quietly whilst hardly moving his lips. "There was a message from Mr Gordon in your Gotham office. I listened into the police band and apparently _Batman_ has killed four people including two officers."

"And I'm here entertaining my relatives!?" Bruce hissed at him. "Alfred you've got to get me out of this!"

Alfred turned to Aunt Celia. "I'm afraid work have called for Mr Wayne, madam he has to go now. I know you've had a long trip. I'll show you to your suite. We serve lunch at 8 o'clock madam. Tonight the cook is doing pot roast lamb followed by summer fruit gateau."

Aunt Celia turned to Bruce. "You've got to go out to work tonight?"

"Sadly," said Bruce, shaking his head and trying to look like the weight of the entire financial world was on his shoulders.

"You own the company, you don't go running about for them, they run about for you!"

"I could always give you a light snack madam?" Said Alfred, grimly trying to change the conversation. "Salmon with ginger? Cheese-stuffed chicken? Beef in black bean sauce? Pot noodles?"

"Bring the car out front Albert!" Said Aunt Celia, waving her stick at all of them. "We're hitting the town!"


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob

**Chapter Three – Batman – Murderer**

Contrary to popular opinion in Gotham, Tony Bressi neither liked pizza nor was Italian. It didn't stop him being the leader of one of the biggest Mafia gangs in Gotham. He tried to keep out of Batman's way by keeping his activities low key and not running about in fancy dress. He made his money in prostitution, porn, gambling, fencing stolen goods and the protection racket.

He was currently standing on top of the Gotham state hospital. He huddled up in his coat. When he was younger he hadn't seemed to notice the temperature. Now he was getting older he was feeling it more. He had a family now, well children anyway, his wife had been killed; he didn't want to be doing this sort of thing anymore. He just wanted one big job. One real big money making opportunity and then he would quit. Buy a place in Florida, maybe even Bermuda. Get a tan, get drunk and talk about the old times. It didn't used to be this way. He used to enjoy it. When he was younger he loved a fight. He loved to see the fear in his opponent. He loved to see the blood on their faces. Now he had a family. There were new people in the gangster game. People like he used to be. People who had no qualms, no fear and no conscience. When he died he wanted his family round him, not a criminal with one more notch on his gun. All he had to do get that was to make a pact with the devil…

A figure dressed as the Batman climbed to the top of the building and stood there waiting. Tony Bressi picked up a brief case and walked over to meet him. Show no fear. Show no fear, he told himself.

"Bressi," hissed _Batman_.

"You've done my well friend," said Tony Bressi. "The police are all twitchy looking for the Batman. With any luck if the real Bats turns up the police will shoot his head off."

_Batman_ grinned. "I need more toys. I seem to have left most of mine about."

Tony threw the case at _Batman_. "If you can give the police the run around for another four hours you'll get your fifty percent."

"What if I don't want money?" Tony paled. "What if I want to see the fear on your face?" _Batman_ pulled a knife from his belt. "What if I want the blood on your face?"

Three shadowy figures emerged from behind an air conditioning unit. There was an ominous clicking sound as they cocked their shotguns.

"Your friends have come to see you die?" Said _Batman_.

"Drop the knife and back away," said Tony Bressi, he pulled a gun from his belt and waved it at _Batman_.

_Batman_ grinned. "We're all friends here, Tony. Besides that I've got someone else to kill tonight."

"Who?"

"Gordon."

* * *

The streets were full of young people heading to clubs. The police as usual were maintaining a high visibility presence to try and prevent the trouble that young people and alcohol always brought. Alfred slowly drove the Bentley up the street to avoid the crowds and pulled up outside the nightclub. Before he had a chance to go outside and open the passenger door a large lady pulled herself out, dragging Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake out with her. She was bubbling with joy. She had a chance to make someone's life happy! The fact they seemed quite happy without her in their life didn't seem to occur to her. 

Bruce talked to Alfred. "Park the car Alfred and wait for a call."

"Come on boys!" Said Aunt Celia.

Bruce pulled Tim to one side. "We've got to get out of here as quickly as possible."

Aunt Celia was busy giving a bemused doorman some money for three people. They didn't normally get people of her age and size in the establishment. Some young women walked past her dressed in, well you would have to say clothes, but saying clothes normally puts people in mind in "items that cover the body". These clothes didn't cover very much of their body and in fact even if one person was to wear all them they would still seem underdressed. Tim's eyes were out on stalks.

"Come on Bruce, I've got the very idea!"

They followed Aunt Celia into the club. "Well there seems to be lots of nice young women about. Come on chaps, I'm sure you can both find a nice young women here?"

Tim whispered to Bruce. "If we can hook up with a women, we can drag her out of the club, ditch her and your Aunt Celia, get our costumes from the back of the Bentley and catch this psycho Batman character."

Bruce looked about worriedly. He didn't normally have to try and hook up with a woman. Being rich and good looking meant he didn't have to any of that normally. This was not a normal night.

Tim looked around. In the corner was one gorgeous red haired girl surrounded by a gaggle of blokes all trying and failing to get her attention. He took a deep breath, sucked his stomach in to make his chest stick out and swaggered over to her.

Tim looked aggrieved and pushed his way to the front. "Would you stop looking at me and lying please?"

She looked over at him with a look of bemusement. "I'm not looking at you or lying?"

"Yes you are you are doing it now! It is really off putting. I'm trying to have a conversation with my friend."

"I'm really sorry," she put a hand on Tim's arm to console him.

"Stop touching me as well! Are you trying to hook up with me? I'm not just a piece of meat you know?"

"I didn't mean to!" She touched him again and went "ah!" when she realised.

"You're doing it again! What's with you? I came down here to have a quiet drink and your trying it on with me. I do have feelings you know?"

"I'm not trying it on at all!"

"I'm not giving you my phone number, that's for sure."

"I didn't ask for it."

Tim took her hand. "Woah! What is with you? If you think I'm going outside with you now?" He dropped her hand. "Please just leave me alone, your too constricting, I need space." He started walking towards the exit.

She ran through the crowd of admirers around her and grabbed his hand. "Well I doubt if you would remember my number anyway hot stuff, it's very long and hard."

"Oooh!" Said Tim, raising his eyebrows to Bruce on the way out. Aunt Celia poked him in the stomach with her stick. "See that's all you have to do young man."

Bruce looked about. There was a woman his sort of age perched on a chair by the bar. He took a deep breath, pulled his stomach in and walked over to her. "Would you stop looking at me and lying please?"

She turned around, gave him a long slow appraising look, that took in the black eye, swollen lip and crudely applied makeup and said "okay," and turned back to talk to her friend.

* * *

Gordon was at his desk. He sighed and put his gun on the desk. Like most things Gordon owned it was not standard issue. He had a Walter P99. Not because he had a James Bond fetish but because it was light, easy to conceal and had a sixteen round capacity. Some of the other officers carried a Magnum Desert Eagle gun but that was a heavy cannon in his eyes. As he had done every night he lowered the decocking mechanism, removed the magazine and started cleaning it. When he eventually died he didn't want the last thing he heard to be a misfire. 

He looked at his watch. It was late but he knew he had to get the paperwork done. He had arrested a criminal for conning a blind old woman of her life savings earlier today and he didn't want him getting let off on a technicality involving probable cause. What was that noise?

He looked up. The door was creaking open? He was normally the first in and the last to leave. He picked up his gun, put the magazine in, took the safety off and aimed it. Jeez it was the cleaner. He quickly aimed it at the ceiling and put it back on the desk.

"Hello Maggie," he said.

"You frightened the life out of me, duck," she said. She was a small fat woman pushing a green carpet cleaner behind her. "Ooh! You aren't still smoking are you? You know we have a no smoking policy now. My girls won't work in a smoky office Jim."

Jim smiled and stubbed out the cigarette. "Sorry Maggie."

Maggie waddled over to the window. "I'll just open the window, get in some fresh air."

With a creaking sound she pushed the window open and was suddenly pushed back into the room by a black clad figure, which leapt through the window.

"Gordon," _Batman_ hissed. Gordon picked up the gun and _Batman _threw a small silvery dart into Jim's hand.

"Aaaah!" Gordon dropped his gun, which _Batman_ kicked off the table. He licked the small wound in his hand and tried not to keep his eyes off the _Batman_. He hoped to God the dart wasn't drugged. He couldn't feel any numbness so he had to assume it wasn't. He started warily going round the desk, trying to keep as much distance from this psycho as possible.

"Gordon! Gordon! Gordon!" He slowly, so he could see the look on Gordon's face, pulled a knife from his belt. Still looking at Gordon's face he licked the knife. "You don't know how long I've wanted to put you into my skin." He pulled down his sleeve. It was covered in scratches, looking like a prisoners wall. All in batches of five. Each scratch lovingly etched. Each scratch showing a life ripped from a body in a welter of blood and pain. Maggie, the cleaner, was coughing and trying to get to her feet.

Gordon recognised him at at last. It was Zsasz. A cold-blooded killer who had murdered hundreds of people. Everytime he killed someone he scratched a mark on his body. The only thing Gordon wanted to scratch was Zsasz's tombstone.

"Don't get up, please?" Said Zsasz and pushedMaggie back down.

"Ooh careful dear," said Maggie, looking up her assailant. "You must be Batman! I've been working here for years and I've never seen you! My little boy will be so thrilled, although to be honest he prefers Harry Potter. He thinks you would be better if you could fly or had magic powers. Have you thought of doing that? My husband thinks you are some sort of sick fetishist who probably dresses in black because he is a peeping tom and who gets a kick out of wearing tight underwear, but I think you are a hero. Besides which I think we women are safe with you about as you are probably gay. I mean, lets be honest, no man in tights is safe with you around?" She sent a big elbow into Zsasz's side and gave him a broad wink. Zsasz was just gaping at her. Normally his victims were pleading for their lives not accusing him of having a homoerotic fetish.

"You will be my next victim, bitch," said Zsasz, trying to recover his composure. "After I kill Gordon here."

"You are so rude Mr Batman, but then again you should see what some of the girls have written about you in the staff toilets. To be honest most of them prefer Robin," she peered at the knife he was holding. "Have you stolen that from the staff canteen? You haven't been eating in the office have you?"

"I will use it to cut your heart out."

"You'd better not do, we need to clean them every night."

Gordon at last spotted a window in the conversation. "If you could leave now please Maggie. _Batman_ and I have some business to attend to." He had managed to work his way round to his gun in-between Maggie's conversational barrage.

"Don't touch that Mr Policeman," said Zsasz. He leapt onto the desk and aimed a kick at Gordon's chin. Gordon went flying back and crashed into a bookcase full of files that tipped lazily over the room, covering the floor with old case notes. Maggie, who was just waddling out, turned around in amazement. This was how the offices got so messy! She picked up her carpet cleaner and clouted Zsasz over the head.

"Do you know how long it takes us to get this place tidy. Batman? Crapman more like," she said and aimed another hit at Zsasz's head. Zsasz caught it with one hand and threw it out the window with a horrendous crashing sound. He picked up the stunned looking Gordon by the belt and collar and threw him out the window after it.

* * *

Authors note - Thanks to the comments from Cmar about the British phrases dropping in. I have changed "pulling a women". Common phrase where I come from, to "hooking up with". I'm trying to avoid the Britishisms but if there are any phrases dropping in you don't recognise or know, please let me know. All the best. Rob 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob

**Batman – Murderer – Chapter Four**

With one hand Gordon grabbed hold of the carpet cleaner, which was still dangling by its cable from the window. He crashed against the wall winding him. He tried to force air into his lungs and looked down. Big mistake. Why was his office on the top floor? He started to sweat. Breathe deeply. Breathe deeply, he told himself. Calm down. What was that creaking sound? The power cable was starting to come out of the carpet cleaner. God dam cheap rubbish! Whoever had designed it obviously never thought that police officers would need to cling onto it for dear life. When he got out of this… If he got out of this he would have all cleaning appliances weight tested up to and including Sergeant Harvey Bullock. His feet were scrabbling at nothing. He looked up and could see the wires slowly come out of the appliance, blue, green and red. He grabbed hold of the wire. Damn! It's smooth, nothing to grip on. He had about three seconds before the cleaner parted from the wires. A drainpipe. Have to swing to it. He started swinging. Missed. Another creaking sound. Try again. Got it! He grabbed hold of the drainpipe just before the cleaner parted company with the wire. He looked at his knuckles; they were all bloodied. He had scraped them on the wall but he just hadn't noticed.

There was a screaming sound above him. That scum Zsasz was toying with Maggie. He clambered up the pipe towards the smashed window and clambered heavily in, cutting his legs on the broken glass. To think Batman does this sort of thing for a living? Zsasz hadn't noticed Gordon coming in because Maggie was screaming so much. Bastard. He hadn't cut her yet he was just toying with her. He picked up his gun and shot Zsasz in the back. In the police write up he mused he'll just write that he shot him in the front, saves internal affairs getting involved. Zsasz was thrown forward. He picked himself and turned round.

"Mr Policeman," said Zsasz, he grinned. "I'm wearing body armour!"

Gordon shot him twice more. Zsasz was thrown back again. Zsasz leapt for the window and threw himself out. Gordon ran to the window and saw a black shape swing into the distance.

Maggie picked herself up to her feet, wiped the tears from her eyes and said huffily. "You'll just have to clean your own office in future Jim!"

* * *

Bruce Wayne was getting panicky. He looked at his watch. He had to get out of here now. He looked across at Aunt Celia. She had perched herself on a bar stool and was busy telling the bar man how to make a Bronx cocktail. Bruce could see the slightly glazed look on the barman that anyone who spoke to her soon got. He bit his lip and looked around the women at the bar. There was a nice looking blonde woman wearing a black latex mini dress. Put a bat motif on her and she could be Batgirl. He strolled up to her.

"Nice dress," he said.

"Mmm," she said and looked away.

"I've got something like it at home actually."

She gave him a strange look. "Do you collect dresses or just wear them?"

Bruce went red. "Well not dresses as such. Latex."

"You go around wearing latex?" She gave him a quizzical look.

"Well only sometimes…"

"I've always wanted to meet a man who liked wearing costumes."

"I've got lots at home! Shall I show you my collection?"

"Babe I'm there!" she grabbed him by the arm.

He looked across at Aunt Celia who spun around on her seat and gave him a huge smile as he walked past. With a fixed smile on his face and the girl he was with twittering about whips and chains he walked through the door to the outside. He dropped her arm and ran down the alleyway.

"Come back!" She shouted. "I want to show you Super girl outfit!"

Where was Tim? More to the point where was Alfred? He ran past a shop door way and there was Tim. It looked like he was giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? Oh no, that is what he was doing.

"Come on Tim!"

"Who's the old guy?" Said the girl Tim was with.

"My Paaaa…. Teacher," said Tim. "Bye! I'll ring you."

"You haven't got my number!"

"I'll look you up in the telephone book."

"I haven't told you my name."

"I'll use my psychic powers, I've got to go babe."

Bruce looked behind him and could see Tim racing behind him. Bruce had got his mobile out of his pocket and was busy calling Alfred. He looked behind him and he could see two annoyed looking women. Oh well such is life. Alfred answered the phone.

"Alfred meet us at the junction of 12th and 10th," he said and disconnected the call. He looked behind him and could see Tim running behind him.

"You're a real wet blanket, you know that Bruce?"

Bruce shrugged and looked up the street to see Alfred tearing up the street in the Bentley.

He grinned at Tim. "I reckon we have got about 30 minutes before Aunt Celia starts calling us to find out how things are going."

"Let's go hunting Bats."

* * *

Tony Bressi looked around at his men. They were a battered, scarred bunch of thugs, as most criminals in Gotham tended to get when left to the Batman's tender mercies. He grabbed hold of the armrest of the chair as the lorry they were in turned round a corner. The light in the van was swinging wildly.

"One last time," said Bressi. "Team A, Bill, what are your objectives?"

"We know them Tony," said Bill. "Don't you worry."

"I'm not worried for myself," said Bressi. "I'm worried for you. If you foul up I'll be donating your body to medial science, what they find of it. What are your objectives?"

The boys chuckled at this. Ten years ago… Five years ago he would have killed him where he sat for that remark. He was losing respect and in this game if you have lost respect you lost your life. Don't lose it. This is going to be the last job. Bill's got friends. If you kill him they'll kill you. He never used to be scared of the consequences… He never used to think of the consequences.

"We go in and silence any security guards and secure the inner foyer," said Bill and he waved his shotgun in the air. "Team B will be carrying the explosives and will acquire the prize. Team C will be setting off all the alarms in all the banks in the area."

"Boss?" Asked Bill nervously. "Are we really giving that psycho Zsasz fifty percent?"

"You must be joking? I didn't bust that freak out of Arkham just to wind up owing him. We'll be giving him what he so richly deserves. Both barrels."

* * *

Bruce put the cowl on. As always he felt a change come over him. Carl Jung used the word "Persona" to describe the social mask that we construct over the top of our true personalities to interface with others and the world. Batman always thought of Bruce Wayne being the mask and Batman being his true personality. He looked across at Tim. He hadn't changed; he was his normal mouthy self with or without the mask. Considering what Tim had been through he was still surprisingly "normal". He sometimes wondered what he would have been like if he had had a chance to take out his rage against the world at a young age and not bottle it up until the rage was all there was?

"Take a right, Alfred," Batman growled. "If Aunt Celia calls, fetch her from the club."

"Certainly, sir," said Alfred. "I will tell her you are indisposed for the duration."

Alfred parked the Bentley up a side alley. The door opened and Batman and Robin stole out into the night. They pointed their grappling guns at the skyline and swung out into the streets. They landed on a nearby rooftop.

"Alfred has been monitoring the police bands," Batman told Robin. "The false Batman is Zsasz but he is still wearing the costume."

"Zsasz?" Said Robin and shuddered. "He is that twisted psycho who cuts himself every time he kills someone doesn't he?"

"Yes. His body is a network of scars, he has killed more times that even I know," said Batman. "I should have stopped him before this. He is lethal with his knife and is very accurate at throwing it as well. Stay clear of him, I'll take him down. You are just here as an extra pair of eyes."

Robin put his hand to his ear. "That was Alfred. Zsasz has been spotted on the Gotham state hospital roof."

"Then that is where we are going." Batman raced to the edge of the roof and leaped into the abyss. He pointed his grappling gun at the nearest roof and swung through the streets.

* * *

Gordon was having his hands bandaged and glowering at the person doing the bandaging.

"If you keep the bandage for at least one day," they said. "Then see me tomorrow. You've used up all our bandages you know?"

"I'm very sorry."

"Try and be more careful in future."

"I was thrown out of a window."

"If you play these rough games…"

"It was not a game!" What was it with bandaging someone up that bought out the mothering instinct? He wouldn't have been bothered normally but it was the Sergeant Bill Smith, in charge of one of the Swat teams.

"Don't get tetchy with me, I didn't throw you out the window."

He was not annoyed at him so much as his office being turned into a crime scene! The team leader, one of his Sergeants, was busy making a preliminary survey, evaluating evidence and assigning search patterns to his men. His men were going through his office with a fine toothcomb and photographing everything. He was being legally burgled goddam it. His phone rang. He picked it out of his pocket, wincing as the movement opened up the wounds on his hand.

"Gordon."

"It's Lieutenant Kitch, sir. My men are in place and hidden on the roof of the hospital…"

"What is it Kitch?"

The voice whispered down the phone. "Batman, or Zsasz, has just landed here sir. Jeez another Batman or Zsasz has just landed on the roof the other side. My god they have both disappeared from view. They are using the shadows. What do we do, we don't know which one is which?"

Gordon thought for a moment. He owed loyalty to the masked man but he owed more to his men. They went out on the streets everyday; they didn't have his years of training or his gadgets. He sighed. "Batman can take care of himself. Zsasz is lethal, he so much as twitches in your direction, you gun him down."


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob

**Batman – Murderer – Chapter Five**

The roof was deeply shadowed. Batman and Robin took to the shadows as soon as they landed. There was something wrong. Batman changed to star light lenses and suddenly saw them. A police swat team was hiding in the shadows all around them.

"Stay down," hissed Batman to Robin. "There is a police Swat team all around us." He looked up. Damn, another caped man touched down on the roof the other side. Zsasz. He also disappeared from view.

"The police aren't going to shoot us down are they?" Said Robin. There was no reply. "Are they?"

"Zsasz is here as well. Zsasz and I obviously go to the same tailor. The police will be unlikely to ask before shooting."

"They wouldn't shoot Batman would they?"

"A choice of that or going home in a body bag? I would shoot first."

"What should I do?"

"Stay down." Robin hid behind a ventilation shaft. "Stay there until I call you."

A scream pierced the night sky to end in a horrible gurgling sound. Zsasz. He was loose and killing. Not one more death. Not one more. Batman stood up and a shot cracked against the ventilation shaft next to him. Damn. He ducked down again. This was going to be difficult. He started to creep towards the sound of where the scream had been. His cloak hid his shape and he could see with the star light lenses. He had to be quiet. Every two yards he stopped and listened and watched.

He breathed deeply. Unbidden he saw all the other victims of Zsasz in his mind. Throats cut, bellies sliced, hearts ripped out. Don't think. Concentrate on the job in hand. Zsasz's psychologist in Arkham said he was an addict. Addicted to killing. Went into cold turkey if he couldn't kill. Sweat, shakes the lot. He couldn't control himself.

No-more victims to Zsasz's knife. All his victims thought they would live forever. They had planned out their next meal; there next holiday, what were they doing at the weekend. What about Batman though? Was he so different? Sure he wore a cloak. He had a superhero motif. He stood up to be counted. But he was human. He could bleed. He could die.

He moved onto the next shadow. He couldn't die. He had been in worse than this and survived. But was he living on luck? No, he was living on training. Years of training with some of the worlds best. Yes, but Zsasz was good as well. In fact Zsasz was the best at what he did. Creeping around in the dark and killing, forever killing. He couldn't stop himself he was addicted to butchery. He killed in a vain attempt to silence the demons inside himself.

Batman didn't like where his thoughts were taking him. He hunted criminals in the futile attempt to calm the demons inside him, but his demons were also insatiable. Was he so different?

The gravel crunched under his leather gloves. The smell of stagnant rainwater was in his nose. Shadows moved around him. The breeze blew up against his face. He crouched to his feet, a batarang in one hand, and his other hand protecting his throat. Nothing. He was shaking? Batman was shaking! He ruled the night! He did! Not this psychopathic killer. Yes. But that was just words. Zsasz didn't use words. He used numbers. Every kill sliced into his skin. A permanent reminder to him. Well Zsasz would not mark himself with a knife bloodied with Batman's blood. He started creeping forward again.

He stopped creeping forward and listened. He heard the sound of breathing. He could smell sweat. He could smell the fear. There was a rustling sound. Police Kevlar against a standard issue police jumper. He had heard it enough times to know. Was he being watched now? Was a policeman about to end his life? Not killed by a criminal but by an officer of the law? No, he could not sense anything. He looked up. The unmistakeable outline of an armed officer was against the skyline. Like an ancient demon a shadow loomed over the officer and there was a glint of metal and suddenly Batman was spattered in blood.

No! Batman leapt to his feet. He was too slow to save the officer in front of him but he lunged at Zsasz. He grabbed at Zsasz's knife hand and with one foot kicked at Zsasz's chest to try and dislocate his arm. The blood on his arm meant that it slipped from Batman's grasp and Zsasz wriggled free. A shot fired behind him took Batman in the small of the back and another sliced into the top of his arm. Pain ripped into his brain and white dots invaded his vision. No don't pass out, don't pass out! The last thing he remembered seeing was Zsasz running to the edge of the building where Robin was hiding…

* * *

Aunt Celia was enjoying herself. She hadn't had so much fun in years. The bar staff here were fairly amateurish but under her careful tutelage they were actually making some half decent cocktails. 

"Excuse me dear," she said. "I think this one needs a bit more gin? Just a smidgeon?" She waved her glass under the bar stewards nose. With a sigh he added a little bit more into her drink.

A thought wormed its way into her mind. Where were the boys? She hadn't seen them in at least half an hour.

She glared at the young man next to her. "Look after my seat young man; I'm just popping out for a moment."

She waddled over to the exit. The doorman said. "Stamp your hand for re-entry madam?"

"You are not putting ink on my hand, young man."

"You'll have to pay again to come back in if you don't…"

"I have paid once, young man, and if you can't remember what a beautiful woman like me looks like?" She waved her hands over her ample frame. Admittedly it once had been a beautiful body but like plate tectonics on a primordial planet, things weren't where they first started. "Then I would suggest you have your eyes tested."

The doorman looked at her. Anything for a quiet life. "Okay madam, you enjoy your evening." He stepped to one side.

She waddled up the alleyway. Where were Bruce and that boy? Tim wasn't it? She got her mobile out of her capacious handbag and dialled up Alfred. Bruce had made her program in his number before they had left.

"Albert! Alfred, sorry!" For some reason she had Albert on the brain? "Where is Bruce? Where is Tim? Where are you?" She looked up as she walked into the main street.

"If you wait outside the club madam, I will be with you shortly," Alfred's reassuring voice said on the phone.

* * *

The van stopped outside the building. All around them were people leaving clubs. Queuing to go into casinos. Kissing in shop doorways, throwing up in shop doorways, shooting up in shop doorways. Gotham by night. Bressi stepped out of the van and looked around. Not a single police officer sullied his view. His phone started beeping. It was time. 

He banged on the side of the van. "Come on boys, I want this operation completed in ten minutes."

His men stormed out of the van, as they were doing in several other locations around the city. Already he could hear alarms sounding around Gotham. If the police weren't stretched dealing with Zsasz they would shortly be running around dealing with all these alarms.

Bressi grinned. The shocked clubbers started to gather around in a wide circle but no one was doing anything. His men ran up to the doorway slammed some semtex on it and ran back to hide behind the van.

Boom! The door burst open and showered a gentle rain of dust over the whole street.

Bressi pulled a mask over his head. "Come on people, let's get it together." He looked around at his men. They were all dressed as Batman. Cloaks flying behind them they ran into the building. The clubbers behind him were staring in shock. Not only had Gotham's protector somehow multiplied but also he was robbing the city museum?

* * *

Aunt Celia was looking at the crowd surrounding a van in front of her. There was a big explosion and dust settled over everything. Including her nice hat. She took it off in shock. It was covered in dust. She had got that in Oxford Street! Her husband. God rest his soul. Had nearly had a heart attack when he saw the price. It was the last thing he had ever given her, before that car had jumped the pavement and taken him from her life forever. Right someone is going to pay for this!

She walked into the street. A crowd of spectators were ogling the scene. She used her stick to force her way to the front.

"Let me through! I'm a tourist! I'm British! Move out the way? Where are your manners? Politeness costs nothing!" Someone turned around and gave her a very rude gesture. She poked him with the stick in the place her old husband never talked about in front of the servants. He went down like a sack of potatoes. "That will teach you to show respect to a lady!"

Are she was at the front. It was the museum! She meant to visit it while she was here. It had that display of Egyptian burial goods, including Tutankhamen's burial goods. Ever since she had read "Tutankhamen and After" by William Ellery Leonard she had wanted to see it. Oh well, she could kill two birds with one stone so to speak. She would see the Egyptian wing of the museum and hopefully find who had ruined her hat. She had seen a very nice new one in Bunce's in town. That would help her recover from the emotional trauma of a dusty hat.

She waddled through the ruined entrance of the museum to see what was going on…

* * *

"Batman? Batman?" Said the disembodied voice. 

"You shot Batman you stupid grunt!" Said another voice. That voice was familiar. Whose voice was that? He felt he should know but somehow his mind felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool. Morphine. It felt like morphine. He tried to open his eyes but they were gummed shut. He reached up with one hand and wiped his face. His face felt strange? Leathery. He still had his mask on. He felt another small prick on his arm. He pulled his arm back. A medic was trying to jam another needle in. Jeez, he didn't need drugs. He tried to get up but couldn't.

"Stay down, Batman, you need to get some rest," a female voice said.

"Are you alright Batman?" It was that voice again? Gordon, that was who it was.

He breathed deeply. Oxygen filling his lungs. He needed to fight the drugs. He needed to fight the pain. Once years ago, he had trained with a Reikei level six healer and she had taught him to fight drugs and pain by connecting to the bodies energy field.

He got to his feet. He was staggering slightly. He looked at his arm. His sleeve had been cut off and some stitches had been expertly placed. His back felt tender, but his body armour had protected him from the worst of the blow. His arm still felt numb. He clenched his fist. No tendons broken. He moved his arm around in a circle from his shoulder. He winced as a small bit of blood oozed out from the stitches. It still works but his reaction time will be down.

"Commissioner," said Batman at last. "What happened?"

"Zsasz killed two more of my men and got away. Unfortunately they shot at you in the furore."

"Where's Robin, have you seen him?"

Gordon looked around at his men. Some of them were still nervously making a cordon around them, in case Zsasz came back. There was some shaking of heads. Floodlights had been brought up to the roof. He could see the two huge blood patches on the roof where the officers had been killed. Next to him on the ground were two body bags, waiting to be shipped out. They had treated him where he fell. Where had Zsasz been running? Over there. He recognised the skyline.

He pressed his communicator button. "Robin? Robin?" He heard a crackling sound. He pressed the button on his communicator again. Again he heard the sound. He walked over to the edge of the building. There in a small patch of blood was Robin's communicator.


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob**

**Batman – Murderer – Chapter Six**

Robin awoke to a nightmare. Zsasz had caught him unawares so completely he had knocked him out in seconds. Blood coated the side of his head. His own plastic handcuffs bound his hands and he had tied them to a fire escape. He tried to move his legs. They were also cuffed. Damn. He was trussed like a Christmas turkey. He didn't like the analogy. He couldn't remember much of the kidnap but it was obvious from the sounds that Zsasz had carried him to a roof in the club district. Below him he could hear the sounds of people drinking, dancing and having fun. He was not having fun.

Zsasz was standing on the edge of the roof looking down at the crowds. "So many people. So many throats to slit. So little time." He turned to face Robin, still in his Batman suit. "Robin has woken. I thought I would save you for later. I like to space my hits."

He had his sleeve rolled up and fresh blood from two more scratches was trickling down his arm. He closed his eyes and licked his arm. A shudder seemed to erupt within him and a deep sigh left his lips.

"You know self harm is a classic sign of depression." No reply. "If you want to kill yourself I don't mind helping?" Still silence. "What's this for? This rage against society? Your Pa didn't hug you? You didn't win the school sack race? You've run out of cookies at home?"

"Stop your cod psychology, boy, less I rip out your tongue."

"Woo! Hit a nerve there did I Zee? I think you are in desperate need of some group thug therapy." Robin was shaking but he was trying to sound more confident than he was. Zsasz walked up to him smiling and holding the knife in his hand. He could smell the sweat on Zsasz. He could see Zsasz's eyes. Like a sharks they were. The black portals of death. With an exquisitely slow movement he stared into Robin's eyes and brought the knife between them. Robin could see his own face reflected in the blade. The blood down the side of his face, the rivulets of sweat through the dirt, the fear in his eyes.

"I will only take one eye boy, so you can me see skin you alive."

"Your all heart. Still the girls love a scarred hero."

"You know I only cut myself when I have killed?"

Despite himself he nodded. He looked at his scarred arm and Zsasz cut a nick on it next to the other two. "Oh dear. I am one out. I had better even the score…"

* * *

The wind was whistling past Batman, the buildings around him were a blur. He let go of one of his cables and aimed another grappling hook at the only possible moment. His eyes were forever scanning the roofs around him and taking in the streets below him. He landed on a low level block of flats. He turned around and retrieved his last grappling hook. Calm down. There is no evidence that Robin is dead. There was not enough blood for a fatal wound. Unless the blade had cut straight to his heart and killed him instantly. He hated his analytical mind.

"Batman, this is Gordon."

Batman had given Gordon, Robin's communicator.

"Yes?"

"We have got several alarms going off over the city."

"Where?"

"Six banks, two post offices and one at the city museum."

"There is an Egyptian burial goods display at the museum."

"Zsasz has no history of theft," Gordon's voice crackled through the communicator.

"Someone broke him out of Arkham. Someone prepared him. Someone is trying to make the police and me look elsewhere. They'll be at the museum. Gather your men."

Batman ran to the side of the building and launched himself into space.

* * *

Zsasz grinned at Robin. "This little nick is not for you boy. I'm going to kill Tony Bressi tonight. He owes me a blood debt. I arranged to meet him on the hospital roof twenty minutes ago and instead there was a Police swat team and Batman. He will pay for that. He will pay for that in blood. If your master gets in my way I will kill him as well. I have thought about his death often in Arkham. When I kill him I will carve a Bat into my chest."

The boy was terrified. He was not going anywhere. He walked to the edge of the roof. Below him he could see a van parked outside the museum. Bressi. He was starting to sweat again. The shakes were starting. He needed another hit. He needed another kill. He turned back to Robin. It would be so easy. Just cut his throat. That would make him feel better.

No. He would save him for later. He would enjoy his death. The Joker had said he had killed a Robin before. The Joker held a special place in Batman's vengeance. If he got Batman angry he might make a mistake. If he made a mistake with Zsasz, he would kill him.

He turned back to Robin. "I'll be back for you later boy. I need to think some more on the manner of your death."

He took a cable from his belt. Tied it to a fire escape ladder and launched himself into the air. At the last second he pressed a button on his belt and his descent slowed down. His boots touched the tarmac. He released the cable and raced towards the museum entrance.

The crowd opened up in front of him.

"Hooray it's Batman!" Said a voice.

"Another one? I've lost count now. What is it some sort of fancy dress party?"

"It's probably advertising a new musical."

"What? Bats. By Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

"Yeah. Sequel to Cats you know."

"I think this one is the real one."

"No the last one had to be the real one. The last one swung through the doors on one of his lines. This one just ran."

"Oh behave. That one who swung through the door couldn't even be bothered to get the costume right? Unless he was making a fashion statement Batman's costume has two sleeves?"

"What sort of statement is that?"

"I dunno, can't afford the cloth? Find's sleeves restricting? It is artistically right? Caught a thread on the door?"

"Don't think it'll catch on."

Oh so Batman had already arrived? This promised to get bloody! Zsasz drew a knife from his belt and ran through the entrance of the museum, his cloak billowing behind him. He hadn't killed for over ten minutes. He had a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

Robin was still shaking. Think. Think, how to get out of this. He looked down and could see the "R" of his Robin costume. He leaned down and picked it up in his mouth. Ouch. It was sharp. He forced the handcuffs from his hands down and started sawing through them. Come on move. Ignore the pain. If I don't do this… He didn't want to think of what would happen if he were here when Zsasz came back. Yes! Freedom. His hands were tingling as the blood rushed back into his veins. He quickly sawed through the rest of his bonds.

Right now what? He looked over to where Zsasz had been looking. There was a van parked outside the museum and smoke was still billowing from where the doors had been blown. Zsasz had left his cable hanging down the side of the building. Robin grabbed hold of it with one hand and launched himself into space. Ten feet from the bottom he grabbed the cable with his other hand and slowed it down by passing the cable behind him. He landed light as a feather and ran towards the entrance. The crowd opened in front of him and gave an ironic cheer.

"Hooray! It's the first Robin of spring!"

"That's Swallow you dork!"

"Wrong costume. It's a Batman only do I'm afraid. Have you got an invite?"

Robin ignored them. What was he talking about? The class of crowd in Gotham was getting distinctly sarcastic of late. He ran up the steps and through the smoke of the doors and into the foyer. In front of him were two security guards. They had been knocked out and tied up but someone, he had to assume Zsasz, had cut their throats, presumably afterwards. Without a thought he rubbed his hand over his throat. So was Batman here as well? There was a shape on the floor. He recognised the dark scalloped cloak and the cowl. Batman? He cautiously crept up to him and looked down. No it wasn't Batman, but he was certainly dressed as Batman. He was groaning and holding his stomach.

"Who did this to you?" Said Robin.

"This old woman, beat me up with her stick she did," he said groaning. "She said philistines like me shouldn't be allowed in museums." Robin punched him on the jaw, knocking him out.

"She was right."

He got one of his few remaining cuffs from his belt and secured him. If he didn't know better he would say that Aunt Celia was in the museum as well? Well judging by her treatment of this thug, she was certainly a Wayne.

* * *

Aunt Celia was stomping down the corridor. She was annoyed. That very rude man dressed like he should be on the ghost train in a carnival had tried to stop her. Well she certainly showed him.

This museum was certainly dark. Her shoes clattered through the museum breaking the silence. She could see lights on up ahead and carried on walking. It was actually quite spooky here? It reminded her of her Uncles old house in the wilds of Sussex. He had a vast collection of old Middle Ages armour. All around her were dark shadows of knights passed. She walked past a re-enactment of an old fight. She stopped to look.

Had she just heard something? Like a rustling sound? There were several waxworks fighting with swords. One of them just had a knife? He wouldn't last long in such a fight. It was difficult to make him out in the dark. Was he moving? She could smell sweat and leather. Very authentic, just like it must have been in the Middle Ages. She peered through the gloom. She wished she had brought a torch.

She turned her back to it and carried on walking through the exhibition. There was that rustling noise again? The shadow for one of the knights looked somehow fuller than it should be? It hadn't been there before, had it? Hmmph. Didn't win the war by getting jumpy.

What was that noise up ahead? Better check that out. She walked up to a double door and opened it. There was about ten or eleven more of those people! All dressed the same. Were they the staff? Was it fancy dress day? They were busy putting all the gold from the Egyptian wing of the museum into a pallet.

That can't be right. This exhibition should be staying in Gotham for at least another two weeks. That is according to the sign outside. These people are ruffians. Malcontents. Villains. Scoundrels. Crooks. Rogues. Rascals. Well whatever they are she knew what else they should be. Locked up.

She walked into the room, held her stick like a sword and said in a clear voice. "I'm putting all you gentlemen under a citizens arrest. Please accompany me to the police station."

She felt a draught and looked behind her. There was another one of those people behind her. This one was covered in blood like a butcher and was carrying a big carving knife.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Robin, Zsasz, Tony Bressi or Gordon. DC does. I'd like to thank everyone who has taken time to read and/or review the story so far. I hope everyone enjoys the final chapter. If there are any bits you like or don't like please let me know! Cheers Rob**

**Chapter Seven – Batman Murderer**

Batman was lying in wait in the shadows planning the perfect time to take out the gangsters when he saw his Aunt just stroll in and try and arrest the gang! Just behind her was Zsasz. His plan would have to wait. He leapt from the shadows and tackled Zsasz. He grabbed his knife hand and banged it against his knee to make him drop the knife. Zsasz turned to face him and leapt at him and started trying to scratch his eyes. That made the thug who tried to hit him on the head with a baseball bat miss and it hit his shoulder instead, on the side he had been shot on. The pain was instant but just as quickly he repressed it. He assessed the damage in a second. Nothing broken, but his arm would not move for several minutes. He grabbed the thug with the baseball bat with his good arm and threw him at Zsasz. He leapt towards Zsasz and kicked him under the jaw. God he was slow. Zsasz somehow managed to twist away from his foot. Behind him another thug tried to take his head from his shoulders with a baseball bat. He ducked and the bat whistled harmlessly overhead. Pivoting on one foot he kicked him in the stomach and he went down.

Robin came running into the room; he threw a batarang, which knocked out one of the heavies. Batman tried to keep the joy from his soul. God he had thought him dead. He did not want to think what he would have done if another Robin had died under his tutelage.

"What took you so long?" Said Batman in his gruff voice.

"Sorry I was in the gift shop," said Robin as he cart wheeled into one of Bressi's men. Robin got to his feet in one fluid movement and punched him on the jaw. He fell to one hand and kicked another thug in the stomach. "They've got a nice poster of King Tut there."

"Hey Batman," said Tony Bressi. He had sneaked behind Aunt Celia and grabbed her by the neck. He jammed a gun into the back of her head and said "Let me n' my men out with the stuff and I won't blow a hole in the broad."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "That won't happen, Bressi."

Aunt Celia jammed her walking stick into Bressi's shins and brought her stick around disarming him.

Bressi stood back holding his arm and looking at the gun on the floor. "Woah! You are some lady, you remind me of my mother."

"Young man," said Aunt Celia, turning around. He was a good looking man. His grey hair lending him an authoritarian air. "Your mother obviously didn't hit you hard enough."

"You sound like her as well?"

Batman swooped behind Bressi and attached some handcuffs to him. "You can carry on your conversation in prison, Bressi."

"Nice woman your mother was she?" Said Aunt Celia, turning to face him.

"The best, a strong woman you know."

Aunt Celia poked him in the chest with her finger. "You are obviously missing a strong woman in your life?"

"I'm doing fine by myself!"

"Doing fine? You have just been arrested by a man dressed as a bat and a boy dressed as god knows what."

"A Robin," said Robin, unnecessarily.

Batman looked back at where Zsasz had been. _He was gone_. He had crawled into the medieval warfare section of the museum.

* * *

Zsasz was hurting and in pain. He had crawled into one of the exhibits and started to try and control his breathing. Damn Batman. Damn Robin. Damn Bressi. They will pay for this. They will pay in blood. All of them. He noticed a silhouette against the door. Batman. He grinned to himself in the darkness. At last. He had dreamed about this all those lonely nights in Arkham. The ultimate hit. The ultimate kill. He slowly drew his knife from his belt and paused.

Where had he gone? He had disappeared. He closed his eyes for five seconds to try and restore his night vision. He looked again. Still nothing. He reached down to his belt. He had some night vision goggles in his belt. He put them on. The museum was bathed in green light. He moved slowly around the exhibit. He looked down at his knife. Suddenly it seemed like a pathetic toy to beat the Batman with. He levered a sword out of the iron hand of a medieval knight. It was a German Landsknechte Flamberge Sword. Zsasz allowed himself a quick smile. He considered himself an expert on blades and this was a blade to die for. He looked about the museum. Still no movement. Batman was hiding like the craven coward he was.

Zsasz crept around the exhibits. Still nothing. There was a swishing sound behind him. He spun around and looked around him. There was nothing there. But he had heard something. He had definitely heard something. He closed his eyes and had an image of Batman with blood pouring out of his throat. It had the look of a vision of the future. He opened his eyes again and saw a movement in the edge of his vision. He spun around again. His sword blade was shaking in his vision.

Nerves. He was getting nervous? There was another sound, this time behind him. He spun around and swept the sword in a huge swinging arc, decapitating a knight in the armour of the Black Prince. The clattering sound was incredibly loud in the museum. The noise echoed and re-echoed around the museum. A high tensile wire wrapped around his shoulders and he was swept ten feet into the air. He dropped his sword, which fell with a huge rattling sound on the floor below. He pulled his knife from his belt and started sawing through the cable. He dropped to the floor awkwardly and sprained his ankle badly. Damn it! He picked up his sword, looked around and then was kicked massively on the chin. He went flying back into one of the exhibits. He tried to raise his sword again, which was kicked out of his hand and he was punched once more on the chin, knocking him out.

* * *

Aunt Celia was still talking to Tony Bressi, even as Gordon was dragging him away. For some reason he seemed almost pleased to be put in the back of a police car? Wretched police stopped her going in the same car as him. He seemed like a decent man. He seemed stronger than most of the men she knew. Most men she talked to ended up agreeing with her after just twenty minutes of conversation with her. Wimps. She was looking for a real man.

That nice Batman and Robin had disappeared? There was something strangely familiar about Batman. Maybe it was the line of his jaw? Maybe it was the way he walked? Maybe it was the makeup on the bruise on his chin? Anyway she had more important matters to think about. She walked out of the museum ignoring the offers of a police escort home. She was meant to be meeting Albert or Alfred outside?

There he was and the reassuring Bentley was outside. She walked up to the door and Alfred got out of the car and opened the door for her.

"I hope you had a pleasant evening madam?"

"Wonderful Alfred. I haven't had so much fun in ages."

"Bruce and Tim are…" He looked over the top of car and the car moved slightly as if the other door opened? "…waiting for you madam."

"Hello Aunt Celia," said the high-pitched voice of her nephew.

She clambered awkwardly into the car. "Well I don't know how successful you boys have been but I think I have met the man of my life."

"What?" said Bruce.

"Well after my evening here with you, I realise you are not the sort of real man that will carry on the family line."

"Well possibly," said Bruce.

"Fortunately for you, I have found a real man."

"Who? You?"

"Some people have sex appeal," said Aunt Celia, pointing to herself, "and some people," she looked over at Bruce. He looked even more bruised than when she had last seen him for some reason. Even Tim was looking fairly battered. What were the women like in this town? How to say this without hurting his feelings? "are like you."

Bruce shrugged and for some reason looked slightly relieved?

"I've met a lovely Italian man called Anthony Bressi."

"'Tough' Tony Bressi?"

"He seemed a lovely man," said Aunt Celia. "I've promised to visit Anthony every day in jail."

Tim was muttering something about cruel and unusual punishment.

"What a lucky man," said Bruce.

* * *

Authors note – I'm afraid to say there have been some more escapes from Arkham Asylum (mental note send an e-mail to Jeremiah Arkham requesting he build a wall around the place). A new story – Hostile Takeover will be appearing shortly. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read my story. I hope everyone will be reading/reviewing my next story! 


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